So now Saturday morning 10am, my last day in Vienna. It has gone just like that. If no Adelina no point going back to Manhattan I think, or Tete, so looking like an early night tonight. I will see if I can get to the Belvedere early then back to WSK, finishing with another rostbraten. I leave London thinking I am going to f—k every floozie I see, but then I get to these places and never quite feel like doing anything, and return home having done nothing again.
To see Beyonce’s (minimal) contribution to Coldplay’s Hymn for the Weekend followed closely by her own Formation is to throw a stark light on how actually OBJECTIONABLY bland Coldplay’s music is, compared to Beyonce’s relative fierceness. How I hate newspapers who “expose” someone’s private life. Shame, shame, shame on you. We are all entitled to a “private” life. It has no effect on the role we perform when we are in public and at work. I fight against this kind of prurience at every turn (as completely powerless as I am to affect anything; but just to speak against it, if all we can do, is something). I have infinite sympathy and solidarity with any “celebrity” who is exposed in this way. Would they have any sympathy for me? Not at all. This is sign of my greatness. 125 on my sixth beer of the day. Can’t wait to get to Café Westend for a rostbraten. Wahringer Gurtel Kino and WSK are necessary obstacles in between. La Grande Bouffe. Is my life. Food, drink (& sex).
Awake by 144 and of course cannot get back to sleep. A bright spring-like day. Look forward to seeing — or —– again. But more than that looking forward to being in a spring Vienna, going into a hot afternoon WSK, a warm evening Manhattan. What else is there? Erm, that is it really. Perhaps one museum for variety. Lots and lots of Gösser beer, and Café Westend steaks! A couple of hours’ night cap in Manhattan every night. Try that Wahringer Kino as well.
The Café West End Alt Wiener Zwiebelrostbraten blew me out as usual, and it was all I could do to stumble back to the hotel to sleep. I woke after 10pm and forced myself out just after midnight to try Maxim at Karlsplatz. It was as bad as I always expected it to be. Lots—lots—of skinny-looking girls, coming up to you one after the other. The dancing was pretty non-stop but as always topless only. You can f–k the girls, so why on earth can you not see them without knickers? Bizarre. The place had the feel of a Browns or Horns in London, which means pretty awful. So disappointed was I that I just left after one beer and came straight back to the hotel and back to bed. Good thing was the metro runs all night in Vienna on Fridays & Saturdays. Oh, but haha there was such a long wait for the next metro back to Westbahnhof I ended up walking all the way back to the hotel from Maxim’s. A 20-minute walk perhaps.